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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26903269">Guilty Pleasures</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/majorbisexualdisaster/pseuds/majorbisexualdisaster'>majorbisexualdisaster</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cunnilingus, F/M, Facials, Fellatio, Hair-pulling, Half-Sibling Incest, Light Dom/sub, Lingerie, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Vaginal Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:48:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,234</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26903269</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/majorbisexualdisaster/pseuds/majorbisexualdisaster</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa and Jon get it on when the Starks are out. PWP.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jon Snow/Sansa Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>95</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Guilty Pleasures</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i don't know why I wrote this... i don't even like jonsa</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She never feels guilty about lying to her family, even though she knows she should. She never feels guilty about what would happen to Jon, if anyone found out. She would get off easily, her parents and siblings looking at her with disgust but she could manage that; Jon though, he would be kicked out, disowned, penniless and alone on the streets. Still, she can not bring herself to feel guilty, not when the pleasure is so great.</p><p>The Starks were out for dinner—expensive, family business dinner, Jon wasn't invited—Sansa pretended she had a migraine. She now stands at the window, watching the sleek black family car drive down the street. <em>One, two</em>, she counts, waiting, waiting... <em>One hundred nineteen, one hundred twenty</em>. They've never turned back after two minutes.</p><p>She turns to her closet, pulling out a box shoved in the back. No matter the fact Mother stopped going in her closet when she was twelve, Sansa is still terrified she would have to explain the copious amounts of lingerie she owns. A pleasant shiver races up her spin as she lifts the lid. Jon and she had skipped school one day, heading three towns over and had blown an absurd amount of money on lacy things that barely covered anything (for Sansa, and for Jon, when they were feeling up to it).</p><p>After undressing completely, she begins to dress up for him. Black stockings and a lacy garter belt, offsetting her creamy, pale skin. She forgoes panties, certain Jon is in one of his more <em>aggressive</em> moods tonight, and she doesn't want to explain to anyone why there are torn panties in the trash. Hiding it all beneath a scandalously short dress. </p><p>She doesn't bother knocking—she never does—pushing right into the room. Jon's on his bed, one muscled arm is casually thrown behind his head. He's naked, one hand lazily pumping his cock as his eyes trail a burning path over her body. His dark, smouldering eyes capture her in their gaze, holding her in place.</p><p>"What are you waiting for?" he eventually asks, momentarily breaking the trance she was in. "Take it off." She complies, slowly unzipping the cheap material, as she's done a thousand times before. The dress falls to her feet and she daintily steps out, relishing in the way his eyes darken as he rakes them over her. "Well aren't you a little slut."</p><p>She bites her lip, suppressing a moan as a shiver shoots through her body. They stare at each other, then she turns when he tells her to, staring at the print of <em>Lilith</em> by John Collier taped on his door. The luscious auburn hair, the scales of the snakes encircling her naked body. Mother hates it, maybe that's why he keeps it. He's staring at her ass, framed by the black lace she wears for him. </p><p>"Come here," he says, demands. He's sitting on the edge of the bed, legs spread, looking at her expectantly. He truly is a sight, eyes blown wide, black curls falling in his face. How could she possibly deny him?</p><p>He's not gentle with her today, fisting her hair and shoving her onto his cock as soon as she dropped to her knees. Her throat burns as he hits the back and she chokes, swallowing compulsively to keep from vomiting. She's not sure he would stop if she did. He begins to thrust up into her mouth, Sansa's nose buried deep in the hair above his cock. He barely lets out any noise, her gagging the only sounds filling the room. He's using her mouth like a fleshlight. It should not turn her on as much as it does.</p><p>His scent is overwhelming, clogging her senses, surrounding her, drowning her. Pleasure pain lances through her every time his cock hits the back of her throat. His thrusts get faster, harder, begin to lose their rhythm. With a sharp yank, he pulls her off and finishes all over her face and hair with a quiet moan. </p><p>"Now you really look like a slut." He laughs, begins to methodically wipe his fingers through his come, shoving them in her mouth, grinning as she licks and sucks it off. "You can go now."</p><p>They've played this game once before. Sansa shudders at the memory. "Please, Jon. Please I—"</p><p>"What?" he snaps, dark eyes boring into her, still kneeling before him, practically naked. "I don't care what you do or what you want. Finish yourself off, go out and get fucked like the slut you are. <em>I don't care</em>."</p><p>She can't remember how this game goes. What does he want? "I only want you." His eyes darken again, cock twitching back to life. <em>That's </em>how the game goes. </p><p>"Didn't you hear me?" he spits. "I don't care what you want."</p><p>Sansa wraps a hand around his cock, pumping it until it hardens again. "Too bad, Jon. I want you."</p><p>She pushes him back until he's sitting against the headboard, straddling his hips. After rolling a condom on, she sinks onto his cock with a shallow moan. Rocking back and forth, she bites into his neck, hard, breaking the skin, relishing in the hiss he lets out. His hands tighten on her hips, fingers digging in so hard she's sure they'll leave bruises. She lifts up, slamming back down on him, curses and whimpers falling from her lips. She rakes her nails down his sides, ten parallel red lines marring his perfect skin.</p><p>He begins to thrust up in time with her movements, hitting a spot deep inside her, making her see stars. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," she moans, reverently. "Yes, yes, yes, like that."</p><p>Jon lifts her off and flips her onto her hands and knees, slamming back inside her with one powerful thrust. One hand wraps itself in her red hair, tugging hard, making her arch her back, the other finds her clit and she nearly screams. </p><p>"Please, please, please."</p><p>They've both lost control, jerky, shaky movements that send his headboard smashing against the wall. He's silent, pulling her hair as he fucks into her. </p><p>"Say it," he growls into her ear, the words more animalistic than anything.</p><p>She moans once. "I want—I want you."</p><p>He groans and comes, shuddering against her back, biting deep into her shoulder. He pulls out, flipping her onto her back and leans down, circling his tongue around her clit, hands holding down her hips. Sansa arches her back, wraps her legs around him, writhing and moaning as he feasts on her cunt. She comes soon after, one hand tangled in his hair, his tongue shoved deep inside her. White light the only thing she can see as lightning pleasure courses through her veins.</p><p>Sansa's sure she passed out because when she regains her senses, Jon's wiping a damp cloth over her face, cleaning off the remains of his come.</p><p>"Sorry about the..." He waves at the bite on her shoulder. </p><p>Sansa smiles. "It's fine." She points at the bite on his neck. "We match." He tries to wipe the come from her hair, but Sansa bats his hands away. "Stop, stop it. I need a shower."</p><p>She stands, walks to the door, still in the lingerie she had put on earlier. "Are you coming or not?"</p><p>Jon grins, standing and following her. They do have a few more hours.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=Lilith+Painting&amp;rlz=1C1CHZL_enCA723CA727&amp;source=lnms&amp;tbm=isch&amp;sa=X&amp;ved=2ahUKEwiFponrlKbsAhWFGc0KHQ9SCpgQ_AUoAXoECAUQAw&amp;biw=1536&amp;bih=754#imgrc=-Y1iqV-ovAR5iM">This</a> is the painting hanging on Jon's door.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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